Xindii and the Don entered the cold, sterile air of the Watch's morgue. The hour was late; the sweet smell of coffee and cigarettes heavy on the breath of morticians and their assistants. Varosium's finest were greeted by the Commodore, a burly gentleman of autumnal years. A fine head of auburn hair coalesced into a distinguished flowering of grey on the periphery of his temples. Humble and polite, he greeted Professor Xindii and the Don with a firm handshake and the kindly gesture of a finely rolled cigarillo. They declined, naturally, although the Don wiggled his paws in a fit of indecision.

'Doctor Yau?' The Commodore commanded, subtle yet authoritative.

The young mortician looked up from his paperwork and walked over to his guests.

'Commodore?' he asked, an annoyance evident from his wrinkled brow.

'Sorry to intrude at this late hour, Doctor Yau, but we have some visitors from the university . . .'

'Visitors, sir? At this hour?'

The Commodore gave off a slight chuckle in his throat which seemed to sit there for an age.

'I know this is slightly irregular, Doctor, but this concerns the Lamb and Flag matter?'

'And?' the Doctor asked.

Xindii stepped in and offered his hand.

'Any help and information you have gathered would be most important to our investigation, Doctor . . . Yau? Is it?'

'Our?' asked the mortician. 'You're working with Inspector Brick, I gather?'

The Commodore started to cough and clean his throat.

'Of course, of course,' smiled Xindii. 'Inspector Brick. The cream of the Brentish Watch. It's a great honour for me and the Don to work alongside such a distinguished detective.'

Doctor Yau smiled. 'Then you won't mind if I call the Inspector -'

'Don't really need to trouble the Inspector at this late hour, do we lad?' queried the Commodore.

Xindii strolled further into the room, rubbing his hands with interest at the various cadavers.

'No, let's not disturb the Inspector, he's probably sleeping . . . like a brick.' The Mapper clapped his hands together and smiled. 'Doctor Yau, where are the remains of Godrich Felstrom?'

'Who are you, sir?'

The Commodore took the Doctor gently by the arm.

'This is Professor Heironymous Xindii, lad. A Mapper. And his, assistant . . .'

The Don's ears pricked up into the cool air and he looked at the Professor. 'Assistant?' he mouthed.

'. . . eh, um . . .'

'The DON, Sir.' the Tatterfox remarked.

The Doctor took a step forward to Xindi. 'You suspect Dreamurlurgy, sir?'

'That's what we are here to determine, Doctor. But I have a suspicion you have already deduced this, am I wrong?'

Doctor Yau swallowed hard. 'You better brace yourselves. This way . . .'

Doctor Yau's assistant, Farren, pulled the clean shroud off the contorted cadaver. A faint steam rolled across the ruptured flesh. Splayed organs and misshapen bone, haphazard across the slab; like a trampled jigsaw.

'Dear gods.' the Commodore remarked. 'I've never . . .'

The Don stepped in. 'Xindii? That steam?'

'Residual energy, old friend.'

'Residual?' asked Doctor Yau. 'I don't follow.'

The Professor took a pen from the Doctor's chest pocket and tried to move the index finger from the foreign fist.

'Residual energy. Even our dreams create electrical fluctuations within the brain, Doctor Yau. That energy has been focused into the body of a man who is 90 % water. Conductivity, hence steam.'

'But . . .'

Xindii pushed harder with the pen. Forcing it with all his strength.

'What are you doing man?' demanded the Commodore.

'Rigor mortis. This fist is real. Real flesh and blood and bone and Reverie.'

'Reverie?' asked the Commodore.

The Don stepped in. 'We do it every day, Commodore. Think, lose ourselves in a moment of dream. A Mapper can harness that, tap into that ethereal mass and project.'

'But . . .'

'What? Doctor Yau?'

'Electrical fluctuations in the brain? It's ridiculous.'

Professor Xindii stood there - a vision in tweed - face almost statuesque.

'Ridiculous?' he asked.

'We are all electrical impulses and bags of water, but we don't end up like this.'

Silence.

'Well done, Doctor.'

'Oh?' He asked.

Xindii leapt toward him and shook his hand.

'Such power needs a catalyst. To invade a mind and body and turn it to this,' he pointed at the remains of Godrich Felstrom, 'would need an understanding of chemistry. And, tonight, that's what we are looking for.'

The Mapper spun about and clicked his fingers.

'Tatterfox? Coffee.'

The Don stared at his friend blankly.

Professor Xindii looked rather uncomfortable. 'Commodore? Can we have some coffee?'

Professor Xindii and Doctor Yau worked into the early hours of Febberjit. The Don secured a table in the mortician's office and started speed-reading the preliminary Watch reports concerning Godrich's 'incident'. The word murder had been used loosely among the reports, and yet The Gob had decreed it. This crime will rupture society. Shred beliefs, it had said. Judging by this insular report they were treating it akin to a hit and run.

The Don ploughed through the witnesses. A middle-aged couple on a Cratchet evening rendezvous. Their observations blurred to the fearful possibility that the Watch may call round to their homes and respective partners. Flint - just Flint - Lamb & Flag bar-fly and gossip monger had seen the depraved theatre to the end, giggling to himself apparently as Godrich's left eyeball popped out and landed in Casual Mary's butterscotch rum. Kiko and Mensch, Godrich's friends, disturbed and affronted at the Constable's questions. They had been given a cab ride home, along with the clear assurance that an officer would be round in the morning for their statements. Disturbed and affronted? While Flint nearly split his sides with laughter. The Don sifted through a few more pages for their statements. It seemed their involvement had been overlooked. No statements, one morning late. Perhaps the Watch were stretched yesterday morning? Couldn't spare an eager blue-eyed bobby?

The Don was augmented to the hilt. Mathematics, philosophy, physics but even these 'gifts' couldn't quell the primal instinct of his Tatterfox nature. Something didn't fit? Something that bit at his heel like a Dazi flea and itched and burned.

He flicked through the witness book and found the address of Kiko and Mensch. 9 Pasaguiel Heights, Eshreet. The Don tore the page from the book and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his velvet jacket. He wished he had taken the Commodore's cigarillo.

'Tatterfox. Come here . . .'

The Don sighed and made his way back into the antiseptic heavy morgue.

'You called dearest?' joked the Don.

Xindii sat huddled over a microscope, totally engrossed in his research. 'Yes, yes. There. There. Oh that's clever. Inspired . . . yes, yes.'

The Don looked at Doctor Yau to which he shrugged ashamedly.

'Heironymous?' asked the Tatterfox.

Xindii looked up from the apparatus, deep in thought.

'Yes?' he asked.

'You called?'

Xindii licked his lips. 'Of course, yes,' he exclaimed 'look here old friend.'

The Mapper jumped from the seat and ushered the Don into it.

'Take a peek, Tatterfox.'

He looked into the microscope and saw a miniscule blob of liquid sitting contently on a slide.

'Fascinating . . .'

Xindii clipped him around the ear. 'Fool. Now, here, look at this also . . .'

The Professor slipped another slide next to the other.

'Now, look . . . bring back the magnification a jot.'

It took only mere seconds for The Don to look up and cast his eyes to his friend.

'Nanites – immeasurably old ones. But inert. Why?'The Tatterfox looked again - fascinated.

Doctor Yau and his assistant gasped with disbelief.

'That would explain his death. Nanites cleasnse the blood. Keep infection at bay. Repair organs if needed. If they were active they would have attacked the influx of Xelofremanine.'

'Xelofremanine, albeit a synthesised version, dear Tatterfox.'

The Don looked at his old friend intently, eyebrows raised.

'The milk from the Kraken . . . wonderful,' remarked the Tatterfox.

'Godspunk.'

'There's one thing I'm not certain on, though,' announced Doctor Yau.

'Which is?' asked the Mapper.

'The murderer could harness the Xelofremanine through Godrich's blood. But to harness that power would need an incredible amount of concentration and energy. Am I wrong?'

Professor Xindii stood up and altered his tie. 'Is he, Tatterfox?'

The Don seemed to slip into a transient state, thinking aloud. 'If the killer did the deed a block away, the catalyst would not have been enough . . .'

'Even the most semi-skilled Mapper would have needed the utmost concentration to complete his task. The hubbub of the pub would not be an option, Don.'

'. . . He would have needed a focus. A signature, possibly . . .'

'But what?' asked Doctor Yau.

'Quiet!' hissed Xindii, 'He's quite brilliant, when he gets going.'

'. . . Not what. Whom?'

Kiko and Mensch.

Hi guys, thank you for reading and keeping with the tale. It really means a lot. This story and myself have been through a great deal in the last few years. Thanks for your continued support and keep reading and voting . . . you ain't seen nothin' yet!!